


Touching and Touched

by Nothing_But_Paisley



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Dom Spock (Star Trek), Established Relationship, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, One Shot, Porn with Feelings, Slice of Life, T'hy'la
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:03:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nothing_But_Paisley/pseuds/Nothing_But_Paisley
Summary: A diplomatic visit to Vulcan leaves Spock with familiar feelings of shame and alienation. Fortunately, Kirk knows how to take his mind off his troubles.





	Touching and Touched

“How was the reception?” asked Kirk, looking up from the adventures of the Pequod as the chamber door slid closed behind Spock. Welcome solitude enclosed them.

“As enjoyable as could be expected, under the circumstances.”

“That bad, huh?” Spock’s head inclined slightly in affirmation. The Vulcan diplomatic council chamber was hardly the most welcoming atmosphere to him, Kirk knew, and the recent tensions with the Romulans certainly wouldn’t have helped matters.

“Sarek is taking an unnecessarily hard line with the Romulan ambassador. It is as though he believes diplomacy to be a zero-sum game, one he must win.”

Kirk laid his antique copy of _Moby Dick_ aside with a slow smile and went to him, the first two fingers of his right hand outstretched. Spock’s shoulders visibly relaxed as he mirrored the motion, returning the kiss. The mental link between them hummed. Kirk dropped his hand and moved behind him to help him off with the heavy ceremonial robe. It was hard for him to imagine being garbed in dark velvet in this infernal heat, though Spock seemed not to mind. Even with temperature controls, Kirk could stand little more than his regulation black tee and a pair of matching Andorian silk trousers.

“You know, Spock, we have a term for these kinds of frustrations back on earth,” he said airily, moving the robe to a waiting hook.

“Oh?”

“Daddy issues.”

Spock raised a wry eyebrow, his amused forbearance shimmering across their bond.

Refusing to dignify that observation with a response, he followed Kirk back to the pale gray armchairs and took the one opposite him. They were dressed much the same now, one leaning with his elbows on his knees while the other sat serenely rigid.

Kirk chuckled into his replicated bourbon. “Are you sure you should be discussing such sensitive information with an outworlder?” His tone was light, flirtatious, and Spock peered over at him with a prickle of carnal interest.

“I could hardly keep anything of importance hidden from you, T’hy’la.” This was not, strictly speaking, true—given Spock’s far greater control of his telepathic abilities—but he appreciated the flattery.

_I love it when you call me that._

_I shall endeavor to do so with greater frequency._

Kirk was aware of the idiot grin that stretched his face, but he couldn’t have suppressed it for the life of him. He turned a little bashfully to the floor-to-ceiling windows to his left, which filled the spacious room with roseate evening light and a vision of endless red sands. Red shards sparkled in his cut glass tumbler.

“It’s beautiful here,” he said, but he was really watching ruddy light find the planes of Spock’s cheekbones and make garnets of his eyes. He savored his bondmate’s answering bloom of subtle pleasure at the compliment.

God, it was a relief to spend a few days outside their assigned roles and responsibilities. (For all Spock’s reserved Vulcan griping, his presence at the council was merely an advisory one.) Still, he understood Spock’s deep ambivalence about visiting his homeworld. Ever since they had touched down on the dust-swept crimson surface, echoes of his anxiety had trembled along the gossamer threads of their bond. Through it, Kirk now felt a fathomless well of guilt at the image of himself lying motionless on Spock’s ancestral lands as ritual bells shivered the still air.

“How many times do I have to forgive you for that?” Kirk said gently.

“I do not know, Jim.”

_How about one more?_

Spock’s face softened almost imperceptibly into a look Kirk recognized as bewildered gratitude. He raised his first and middle fingers, silently beckoning, and Kirk merely looked at them for a moment. Elegant, tapered, immaculately clean.

He set his glass aside, sank to his knees in front of Spock’s chair and placed his hands on the armrests, earning a quizzical tilt of the head. When he bent his lips to the outstretched fingertips, Spock gasped. When his tongue darted over them, Spock stopped breathing entirely.

_What you are doing is considered quite scandalous among my people, T’hy’la._

_That’s what I was counting on._

A low vibration that might have been laughter rumbled along the bond, even as the scrape of Kirk’s teeth on the pad of a finger brought forth an immensely gratifying Vulcan groan. Kirk placed his hands on Spock’s knees and eased them apart, releasing the hand he’d been tormenting. He sat back on his heels and looked up at him, mouth tinged red as the desert sands and eyes engulfed in black, waiting for the silent ripple of consent. When it came he tore at the alien fastenings until they no longer stood in his way. His greedy mouth found flesh of emerald.

Kirk’s eyes rolled back as a wave of love and acceptance crashed over the bond, nearly overwhelming him. His own thoughts began to unspool and lose coherence.

_…want to make it good for you. Oh, fuck, Spock, come in my mouth. I want it…_

_Jim, yes…_

Beneath the desire, Kirk became aware of Spock’s amusement tickling at the edges of his mind. He felt Spock caressing his hair, and the thought of those hands, so much more powerful than his own, cradling his head with unimaginable gentleness almost undid him. He was unbearably hard now, hips working in futile circles. Still his mind echoed with Spock’s reflected mirth.

_Something funny, Commander?_

_Jim, you are so very…Human._

Unable to think up much of a response to that, Kirk redoubled his efforts, pleased with the low sound of satisfaction he caused.

_I should like very much for you to feel this._ Spock’s hand began to drift toward the meld points on the side of Kirk’s face.

_Do it! God, please, do it._ Sensitive fingertips brushed his skull, and the few remaining barriers between them fell away. Kirk moaned aloud and felt the vibration around his own aching cock. _Oh, fuck me._

Another glimmer of amusement from Spock, and then all was heat and want and the feel of his own mouth as he madly sucked. He forced himself to go slowly, to prolong it as much as possible, until Spock’s free hand was grasping his hair as the pleasure crested and became Kirk’s own.

Spock’s hand fell away, severing the physical connection, and he slowly became aware of his own panting body once more, and the polished stone floor hard under his knees. Spock loomed over him like some benevolent sovereign, radiating comfort like a caress across the link. Kirk looked down to find his right thigh slick and dripping, and he burned with an ancient, adolescent shame.

“That hasn’t happened to me in…a very long time,” he said with a sheepish laugh, dropping his hands into his lap and sinking back to sit on the floor. Spock arranged his garments without hurry, regarding him with a look that was almost a smile.

_That was only a small part of what I can offer you, my T’hy’la._ Spock reached out to cup his chin, ran a thumb over his reddened mouth. _In time, I will be able to make you come whenever I wish._

“Oh, God…”

Spock briefly pressed his thumb between Kirk’s lips, forgetting the taboo—no, relishing it. _I could have you in front of everyone._

_I think you’re enjoying this idea a little too much._

_Captain James T. Kirk, seducer of alien women._ Playfulness skimmed across the link, and fresh arousal. Images from Spock’s consciousness, remembered and imagined, flooded his mind: Kirk grasping at the wrist that held his hands firmly over his head, Kirk arching his back as he was fucked into red earth, Kirk kneeling just moments ago with hooded eyes. _Mine to do with as I please._

He’d be damned if it wasn’t contagious.

“So possessive!” Kirk rose from his aching knees and gestured for Spock to follow, leading him across an ornately patterned area rug and into the attached bathing facilities, where he stripped off black cotton and ruined silk. “You’re starting sound downright Human.”

Kirk could feel him drawing on the decades of mental training it took not to scoff.

He felt Spock’s eyes on him as he stepped under the water and shivered, wondering briefly if he would ever grow tired of their intense, unblinking regard.

_I intend to do all that is within my power to ensure that you do not._

Kirk blinked in surprise and smiled at Spock standing just inside the green tiled threshold with his hands folded behind his back.

“I don’t expect I’ll ever get tired of this,” Kirk said with a roguish gleam in his eyes. The cool water was heaven on his fevered skin. “Sorry, I’m not very good at shielding my thoughts. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Nothing in your mind could ever be repugnant to me, Jim.”

Kirk closed his eyes and let the water spill over his face, feeling warmth across the bond as Spock retreated and the door closed behind him. The beloved presence in his mind grew tender and poetic.

It said: _I await thee._

Again, Kirk felt the irrepressible slicing of a lovesick grin. _Not for long._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> I'm new to writing Trek fic, but Kirk/Spock is one of my most beloved ships. I just love these goddamn space dorks.


End file.
